How do you know he loves you?
How do you know he loves you? How can you tell if he cares? I've tried and tried to get the answers, but none of them satisfy the questions haunting me deep inside my soul. He looks at me as if I were special sometimes, a person he could be with for all eternity. Sometimes, he looks at me with contempt, with fierce rejection and hatred.
He smiles at me often, smiles that often sweep me off my feet, smiles that stir up within me feelings I had so badly never wanted to feel. He is my master. And I, his ever-loyal slave, ready to cater to his needs at his beck and call, ever-ready to give up my life for his happiness; my life, solely for him. He is my soul. I am not complete without him. He is my strength. My life would be pointless without him. He is my joy and my pride. My everlasting.
But he would never be mine. He would never feel these feelings burning up inside of me. He would never love me. For I am nothing to him. I am but a whisper in the wind or a gentle breeze that blows at him lovingly. I am that one star out of the multitude of shining stars that surround him. For him, I am not there. I never was.
I talk to him complacently, making him laugh with my suave tones of idle talk. He smiles at me, tells me that I am the only one who could ever understand and reveals things none of his Guardians know. He trusts me. He needs my support. And yet, he does not see.
He doesn't see how my eyes sadden at the sight of him turning to someone else, when I could offer the same strength, and more, to him. He doesn't see how I suffer whenever he sees past me, seeing only his Guardians, asking only his Guardians for power, for courage, for the resolution to continue fighting. He doesn't see how a simple pat on my shoulder, a simple touch on my arm, could bring shivers running down my spine, warming me up, leaving me breathless and then cold when he takes his touch away.
But somehow, I can't ever bring myself to tell him. I'm afraid. I'm afraid my confession won't be returned with affection, with love. I'm afraid he'll shrug it off, afraid that he'll laugh. I know... I know that his laugh would kill me, strip me bear and without soul. I wouldn't be able to take it. It is cowardly, but anything in the face of love is incomparable to its strength. For love, people have tried to bring the dead back, have travelled over distant seas and deserts. For the sake of love, people continue to die.
My love for him, I can't even begin to describe it in words. I've seen how he grew up, seen how his power had built up over the years. I've seen how dedicated he is to protect his family, his resolution. All of these and more have led my heart to walk towards his. But his heart does not notice -will never notice- mine.
What have I done to deserve such unrequited love?
But I continue with it; continue with the facade of cool and brotherly love. But I slip sometimes. When I catch him whenever he trips and how our lips accidentally brush lightly against each other when I help him up. When he sees me staring at him with such longing, desperation and love. When he catches me watching over him when he sleeps. When I get overly frustrated and overprotective whenever he makes decisions that would endanger his life no matter how reasonable the cause is. He sees this. I know he does. But he does not make the connection. He doesn't understand why I do these things, doesn't understand why I go all the way to help him.
My mask must be too well crafted for him not to see through it.
I suffer so much inside; suffer this unrequited love burning deep inside of me. My family knows of this. And they try to help me, try to take my mind off of him. But that is impossible because he encompasses all of me. I have said that I am nothing without him. The only one who could end my suffering is him. The only one who could break the walls I had so carefully and painstakingly erected around myself. He is my only salvation. But he does not know it. And I slowly die, because I know he will never save me.
So I dream. Dreams filled with him -with us. Dreams filled with so much loving and happiness. Sometimes, dreaming him is all it takes for him to be real. But the truth is, he's never going to be real to me at all. I'd rather continue on dreaming if it means I can have him, if it means he'll be mine. I'd rather live my life dreaming... than to live on without a soul.
But I continue to hope. And continue to suffer at the same time. I hope that someday he'll be able to see how much love I have for him, how I long to sleep beside him, to watch him as he falls asleep, to care for him, laugh with him and protect him for all eternity. Even if it kills me, I would wait forever.
I'm with him today. And he's sitting beside me. We're eating, talking amicably to each other. Everyone's here. Everyone's happy. But I'm dying. He's so close to me. And yet, I can't do anything other than listen when he speaks, laugh when he says something funny and smile when he looks at me. He's asking me if everything's fine, I only laugh and nod. But then he looks at me -with those kind of eyes that could see through anything- and says that I seem to be bothered by something lately. My heart skips a beat for a second. Does he know? Did he notice? I only laugh and say that he must be seeing things. He frowns at me. So I ask him why he says that.
He tells me he noticed how I sometimes space out, tells me that sometimes he catches me with a kind of longing and suffering in my eyes whenever our eyes meet that would vanish when I notice.
What am I supposed to say?
I couldn't tell him that he's the reason for all that, could I?
Anyone want a happy ending? Or should it stay that way?